


Letters of Confession

by schuylers



Category: Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Letters, Poe party ftw, i am so sorry people of the Sandi family, poe party ftw entry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schuylers/pseuds/schuylers
Summary: Annabel Lee needs to write to Edgar, the poems are lovely, really. But the ravens are just a little too much. 
Wrote this for  Poe Party FTWPrompt: Confession. 
It's set from A Tell Tale Birthday to the very end of Chapter Nine (or between Chapters Nine and Ten?)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Poe Party FTW Transmedia competition!

_Dear Edgar,_

_I'm just writing a quick little thank you for the beautiful poem you wrote me. I was truly, very grateful for it and I was most surprised by the ravens, they're certainly a very... innovative way of letter carrying!_

_Once again, thank you so much for the poem - I'll be dining with Lenore tomorrow afternoon if you do wish to join us. But Lenore says you spend a lot of time in your study, it's no problem if you can't join us! But wouldn't it be just lovely?_

_Yours,_  
Annabel Lee

  

* * *

  

_Dear Edgar,_  

_I_ _'ve received all forty three of your poems this week and they are most wonderful! You truly have a beautiful, beautiful talent._

  
_Now, I don't mean to complain at all but the ravens seem to be proving just a small problem. You see, they never seem to fly back to your home. If you would like your ravens back I could bring them over to you - or if you prefer, you could pick them up. I have all fifty six so you don't need to fret about losing any._

  
_My house is only a five minute walk, you know, Edgar? Lenore told me you don't get out of the house much but I do believe it would be wonderful to see you one day. Perhaps you could deliver any other poems - not that I'm expecting any, of course - in person next time? I don't wish to cause your ravens any inconvenience, you see._

  
_Yours,_  
_Annabel Lee_

 

* * *

 

_Dear Edgar,_

_I don't suppose I'll send this, I haven't had the courage or time to send you the other two letters. You see, something wonderful has happened! I've met a most amazing man, Eddie. He is so lovely and genuine, and we hope to one day be married._

_The only potential problem with this is that Eddie doesn't exactly approve of your poems and sonnets._

_Don't mistake me, I find them so elegantly written and you're so talented. But Eddie could take your poems the wrong way and I would hate to see you both argue._

_I sincerely hope this doesn't upset you, that would be quite horrid. I'm terribly sorry, Edgar. Your poems were so marvellous._

_Yours regretfully,  
Annabel Lee_

  

* * *

 

_Dearest Edgar,_

_The last letters never sent, I couldn't face it. So Lenore told you instead - and I've never felt so heavy hearted before in my life. The poems have ceased and I wish they hadn't._

_Eddie is a wonderful man but he doesn't have your way with words, he's not like you._

_I do hope you're okay, I shall have to ask Lenore. Please be okay, Edgar. I can't stand it when I don't hear from you. Perhaps Eddie has noticed that I am downcast, and perhaps he knows why. But he hasn't said anything, which I suppose is a good thing._

_I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say, you've not written for so long. I feel so empty._

_Yours,_  
_Annabel_

 

* * *

 

_Dearest Edgar,_

_I didn't expect to see you today._  
_Well that sounds silly, it was your house that I was visiting. But I've only seen you at your house once before._ _Which sounds even stranger, but what I'm trying to say is: I only ever pay a visit to your home when I am visiting Lenore. You're never really there. Lenore says you're in your study writing most of the time - or in your cellar._

_But anyway, you were there. It was good to see you and you looked well. You looked very well._

_I'm lying, of course. You looked quite terrible and you spoke so cold and stiffly to me. I felt awful. Almost as if you've read these letters - you haven't. You won't. They stay here, out of your way, out of Lenore's way and certainly out of Eddie's way._

_Yours truly,_  
_Annabel_

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

_“A VALENTINE”_

‘For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous eyes,

Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,

Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling lies

Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.

Search narrowly the lines!- they hold a treasure

Divine- a talisman- an amulet

That must be worn at heart.

Search well the measure-

The words- the syllables! Do not forget

The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor

And yet there is in this no Gordian knot Which one might not undo without a sabre,

If one could merely comprehend the plot.

Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering

Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus

Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing

Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet’s, too,

Its letters, although naturally lying

Like the knight Pinto- Mendez Ferdinando-

Still form a synonym for Truth- Cease trying!

You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do.’

 

            -Edgar Allan Poe

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

_Dearest Edgar,_

_I read your most recently published poem today, 'A Valentine', it was so beautifully written._

_Eddie smiled as he passed the copy to me during our evening meal, he told me it reminded him of me, at a time before we began courtship. And I smiled back, I told you he was lovely, didn't I?_

_But the more I read and read and re-read the poem, the more my eyes begin to water. I must keep in the tears before Eddie sees, he'll be so upset if he sees me crying. Especially if he deciphers I'm crying over another._

_I'm crying over your poem, Edgar._  
_That feels so much better to say, although you'll never read these it feels good to tell somebody, or something. But it also feels so shameful, so terrible and scandalous._

_Because some part of me, Edgar, wishes your poem was about me._

_Yours truly,_  
_Annabel_

 

* * *

 

_Dearest Edgar,_

_You're talking to me again!_

_Even writing this letter I can barely contain my glee! Eddie keeps giving me strange sideways glances from the other side of the drawing room but I'm too excited to care!_

_An invitation! Delivered by raven- but an invitation all the same! An invitation to a dinner party with great minds in literature? I laughed as I read the invitation - I'm not a literary mind! Lenore wants me to help her with a guest list, which is wonderful! I can decide the guests I would like to meet, I'd definitely like to meet Miss Alcott and Mr Wilde, they do sound like brilliant people, and Eddie agrees._

_I've had to ask Eddie along as my plus one as not to be extremely rude and impolite. But I'm sure you won't mind, you've found another now, as your poems suggest._

_And as much as that hurts me, I think I've accepted it._  
_I can't wait to see you again._

_Yours truly,_  
_Annabel_

 

* * *

 

_My dearest, Edgar,_

_I don't know how much time we have left, I'm so terribly frightened and I can barely write this legibly. I need you to know something, and it's such a terrible, beautiful, burning something. I'm afraid I have lost the words to pen it correctly._

_It's been like this ever since you stopped writing to me, no, before that. I can't remember a time when it hasn't been like this. I suppose Eddie came along and there was so much pressure from our families and then..._

_I don't know Edgar. There are five of us left, only five. I'm so scared._

_What I'm trying to say is that I love you, I love you, Edgar Allan Poe. Ever since you sent me the first letters - I didn't know it, I was too clouded by your words, by the ravens, by the pressure to find a good and rich partner. But I love you._

_If I weren't such a horrible poet, I'd write billions of songs for you; as it is, I'm the least artistic person you'll ever meet, but my love makes me feel like a writer, like you. I only hope it's enough._

_When this night finally ends, I promise I'll tell you this in person. I promise I'll finally try to give what you've given to me. I promise that I'll show I love you as much as I do._

_You see, Edgar - tonight has been horrible, the worst thing I've ever experienced. I would compare it to a nightmare, but I've dreamt about you for so long, I've forgotten what a nightmare is._

_I love you, Edgar._

_Yours forever,_  
_Annabel Lee_

 

* * *

* * *

 

He slid the thick parchment back into the cream envelope and re-tied the blue satin ribbon around the small stack of similar packages. His whole body shook with sobs as he traced his name, etched onto the first envelope. Placing them back on the dining table where he found them, Edgar looked to the grand doorway where Lenore stood, her face distorted in terror.  
Edgar looked down, hot tears drizzling down his cheeks and hands shaking. His stomach twisted in despair and Poe felt his mind plucking words from the air - as they usually did when he was in a difficult situation - trying to string themselves together to create a poem. But nothing came of it.

She was gone. _  
_

 

* * *

* * *

 

_For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams_  
_Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;_  
_And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes_  
_Of the beautiful Annabel Lee._  


End file.
